


You Might Need Some New Clothes

by justanotherowl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Everything gets burnt, F/M, Hermione fights a demon, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1942551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherowl/pseuds/justanotherowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is going to need some new clothes after Hermione encounters her first demon. Set in 1x01 "Pilot".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

There was a thudding sound and then a creak as I was wrenched upward by a weight leaving the bed. _Sam,_ I though through the haze of sleep. Groggily, I peeled my eyes open, patting the bed next to me. Just as I suspected, he was gone. Panic burst through me—sure and swift, a reflex reaction—and I stumbled upward and out of my side of the bed. Groping for my lifeline on the table, I sighed in relief when I found it—my wand—and tucked it into the waistband of my shorts, continuing out into the hallway.

 

Getting my bearings straight—the vertigo slipping away—I realized there were two voices coming from the living room. I nearly reached for my wand, but decided against it. I flipped on the light switch, glaring into the blinding brightness and called quietly, “Sam?”

 

“Hermione,” he said, pausing as I took in the scene before me. “Hey.” There was a rather tall man next to Sam, his hair disheveled and his eyes tired—though they piqued with interest when he saw me. “Dean, this is my girlfriend, Hermione.”

 

The man's gaze turned toward me, and I smiled slightly. And then—oh! “Wait,” I said, realizing, “Your _brother_ Dean?”

 

Sam just nodded, looking uneasy. His brother, unaffected, shuffled a tad closer and his eyes gave me what I took as a quasi-sleazy once over. His eyes lingered just a bit too long on my shirt, and I shifted uncomfortably.

 

“British, I like it! Oh, I love the Smurfs,” he commented in a sort of gravelly voice, grinning. At that, I self-consciously tugged down the ends of my suddenly-seeming nonexistent shirt. “You know, I gotta tell you, love,” he said in a mock British accent, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “You are completely out of my brother's league.”

 

I bit my lip, feeling almost queasy, and glanced up at Sam. “Just let me put something on.”

 

“No, no, no. I wouldn't dream of it,” his brother replied, giving me a cheeky grin. “Seriously.”

 

My eyes narrowed slightly as the man—Dean—walked back toward Sam. The taller brother, for his part, carried an extremely stormy expression and I could tell he didn't like his brother's continued eye contact.

 

“Anyway,” Dean continued, breaking me from my introspection. “I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business.”

 

There was a moment of silence before he added, “But, uh, nice meeting you.” And I got the feeling that the weird flirting might have just been to keep up appearances.

 

As he was turning to head out, beckoning Sam after him, Sam spoke up. “No,” he said clearly, moving back toward me. His arm slid around me and he said fiercely—though not unkindly, “No. Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

 

Sam and I shared a knowing look as Dean looked distraught and surprised. I patted at my frizzy hair, flouncing out like an umbrella, and felt exactly how much tension was in the room.

 

“Okay,” he muttered, searching for the words. He turned to face us both, and said simply, “Dad hasn't been home in a few days.”

 

I could feel Sam tense up beside me, but he replied, nonplussed, “So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.”

 

Dean looked frustrated for a moment and ducked his head, before looking back up and saying—carefully, measured, “Dad's on a _hunting_ trip and he hasn't been home in a few days.”

 

Sam tensed even more—though he still gave no outward sign—before he turned to me and said, “Hermione, excuse us. We have to go outside.” We shared yet another knowing glance and he followed his brother out.

 

_Hunters,_ I thought, half amused and half concerned. Couldn't live with them, and certainly couldn't live without them.

 

* * *

 

Sam returned ten minutes later, his shoulders hunched and his features tight. I gave him a moment alone before I followed him into our bedroom quietly. When I entered, he was sliding a hook-shaped knife into his bag.

 

“Wait,” I said, eyeing the duffel bag. “You're taking off?”

 

Sam continued throwing weapons in the bag before turning to look at me, but not replying.

 

“Is this about your dad? Is he alright?” I asked, moving over to my boyfriend, and laying a gently on his shoulder, trying to catch his eye.

 

“Yeah, you know...” He trailed off, lacing his fingers through mine. “Just a little family drama.”

 

I arched my eyebrows at him incredulously. “Uh huh,” I murmured disbelieving. “Your dad was on a demon hunting trip wasn't he?”

 

Sam closed his eyes for a moment and then said, “Yeah, it looks like he was. And a few days is actually three weeks.”

 

“Why wasn't Dean with him?” I questioned, taking a seat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Three weeks was concerning, even after all that I'd heard from Sam about his father. Sam just grunted in reply, shuffling through the closet for something. “Want some help?” I called.

 

“My coat,” he said simply.

 

I pulled my wand out from my waistband, saying, “ _Accio_ coat.”

 

The heap of fabric came whizzing out from the back of the closet, missing Sam's head by inches, and coming to a stop gently on my lap. I gave Sam a small grin and held it up. With a minuscule smile, he took it and slid his arms through the sleeves.

 

“That's still unnerving to me,” he stated, though his growing grin made me wonder if it was a bad thing.

 

“Is this something I can help with, do you think?” I asked hopefully, my eyebrows furrowing. “With my magic and all?”

 

Before the last question was even out of my mouth, Sam was shaking his head. “It could be dangerous. I don't really know what we're getting into. I'd be less distracted and likely to get hurt knowing you were safe.”

 

Biting my lip, I asked, “Can I at least put some protective charms over you?”

 

“If that'll make you feel—“

 

I popped out of the room before he could finish, muttering, “ _Protego totalum_ ” at my target, and popping back into our bedroom with a snap of my fingers.

 

“--better,” Sam finished, looking confused.

 

“Apparition,” I explained, even though he already knew. “Now just let me cast one more--”

 

“You already cast one?”

 

I put my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows at him, “What did you think I was going? Grabbing a snack? I put a protective charm over your brother's car, you idiot.”

 

Sam's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise as I rolled my eyes and raised my wand, saying, “ _Salvio hexia._ ” There was a faint whooshing sound and Sam looked a little disconcerted.

 

“Just for protection, Sam.”

 

Pulling me into a quick hug, he murmured, “I should get going.” He let me go, kissing my cheek quickly, and picking the duffel bag up off the bed.

 

“Will you be back before Monday?” I asked, giving him a disapproving look. “That interview is pretty important, Sam.”

 

He blew out all his breath and said, “Yeah, it's just for a couple days. I'll be back in time, I promise.”

 

I nodded, thinking it over. If he was going to be with his brother Dean the whole weekend.... “Sam, can you...” I started. “Don't you think it would be best if you told your brother, you know, _about_ me? So he can get used to the idea?”

 

He just stared at me for a second before saying, “You don't know my family. And besides, you probably won't be seeing him again.” Seeing my upset expression, though, he added, “But I'll try, even if he doesn't hear me out.”

 

He gave me one last tensed smile before heading down the hall.

 

“At least tell me where you're going!” I called after him, hands once again on my hips. When I saw him simply shaking his head, I added, “You know I can find out either way!”

 

I then sighed and sat down on the bed, waving my wand to clean up the mess he'd made.

 

* * *

 

Sunday morning, I started to get worried. I hadn't had contact with Sam since he left, and he was starting to make me nervous. Besides the fact that his interview was coming up, he could be hurt and I wouldn't even know. But then he called me in the afternoon, saying he'd be home.

 

I quickly set to work, laboring over a batch of cookies (and by laboring I mean waving my wand and making them appear) and cleaning the apartment (again, with a wave of my wand). I turned the shower on, letting the heat permeate through the small bathroom while I searched for my towel. As I was peeking under the bed, I heard a thud from the other room.

 

“Sam?” I called. No response. I quickly grabbed my wand off the bedside table and lowered myself into a defensive crouch, my reflexes from the war as good as ever.

 

There was another thud, coming from down the hall. I followed the noise, a spell on the tip of my tongue, _just in case._

 

I caught movement out of the corner of my eyes and flicked on the light. There, in my living room, as a man with eyes as black as night—certainly not Sam, or even Dean. I stared at the man in shock for a moment before the fight kicked in, and I raised my wand, shouting, “ _Confringo!_ ”

 

The spell hit the man squarely in the chest and he burst into flames, screaming hauntingly—an inhuman wailing—before the flames suddenly stopped and the man disappeared in the same instant.

 

Holding still, I waited for a moment. Sensing it from years of practice, I turned and screamed, “ _Stupefy,”_ at the man just as he appeared behind me. I caught sight of the black smokiness that accompanied his disappearance and realized what he was.

 

Not a wizard. A demon. My spells weren't going to be nearly as effective as I would've hoped.

 

“ _Diffindo,”_ I pointed my wand once more at the creature, dashing through the hall and back toward my bedroom, mind set on finding on specific object.

 

Of course, Sam didn't _know_ that I knew about the salt-round gun in his dresser drawer, but I supposed it was certainly good that I _did_ know about it. I had just never asked, not wanting to pry.

 

Hoping my spells would create distraction enough, I sent another hex behind my shoulder and continued.

 

Using a quick Anti-Disapparition Jinx, I began my search for the gun, frantically pushing aside all of Sam's clothes, flinging them on the ground in my desperation. With my luck, I'd trip on his underwear and that would kill me before the demon even could.

 

“What hurts demons?” I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes and trying to think. Lucky me, being a bookworm and all, I had researched it—something that was a “just in case” tucked in the back of my mind.

 

Salt, iron, and holy water.

 

“ _Accio_ gun, _accio_ salt.”

 

Both objects came rushing toward me and I quickly conjured an iron chain? I spread the chain around me in a wide circle, and poured a second circle of salt around that; then took down the jinx, gun in one hand and wand in the other. Warily, looking around me, I pivoted around the circle.

 

I'd never fought a demon—I was just going off of guess work at this point.

 

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and suddenly, everything was aflame outside of my circle of safety. Shouting, “ _Diffindo,_ ” once more, I turned toward the creature. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the trigger, and the demon was wrenched backward and onto the ground by the shot.

 

I vaguely heard noises from the other room and someone running down the hall as I cried, “ _Aguamenti!”_ The flames were quickly doused by the water, leaving everything in the room charred and black but free of fire.

 

I raised my eyes to see Sam at the doorway. I gestured toward the now twitching body on the floor. “Demon,” I said finitely, by way of explanation. “Oh, and you might need some new clothes,” I added. Helplessly motioning toward our disintegrated belongings. I gingerly stepped out of my circle, shaking, and was immediately wrapped up into Sam's arms.

 

Behind us, the creature started moving, so I shot it again, just for good measure, and laughed a little hysterically as it became still and Sam started whispering, “It's okay,” into my ear.

 

Sam pulled back, staring at me, eyes wide, as his brother rushed up behind him and into the room.

 

“What happened?” Dean demanded panickedly as he took in the scene.

 

I dropped the gun on the ground, letting it thunk loudly, and whirled on him, my eyes narrowed. “What do you think happened?”

 

“Looks like...a demon...” He mumbled, scratching his neck, looking sheepish.

 

“You think?” I said sarcastically, though I tried out a little smile. “You guys should probably exorcise the bastard now.”

 

“Dean, you got a ritual for this one?”  


As they dragged the guy into the next room and dealt with him, I attempted to clean the room. After several unsuccessful efforts to save the clothes magically, I gave up and settled for banishing them instead. I scourgified the charred room and walked out of the bedroom.

 

I heard the brothers arguing, voices lilting over each others. Dean was speaking when I started walking down the hall.

 

“Well, for one, how did she know how to--”

 

“Trust me, Dean, she's not your typical girl.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean's voice rose higher.

 

“I mean, she's--”

 

“Magical,” I finished, brandishing my wand as I stepped into the living room. I quickly noted the body on the ground—make sure it was still. “ _Lumos,_ ” I said, a bright light emitting itself from the end of my wand.

 

Before I could think, Dean had pulled a knife out of nowhere and we were staring at each other, unsure of what the other was going to do. When I took a second to look at Sam, Dean lunged at me, the blade connecting with my arm, I aimed a stunning spell at his shoulder, and in the close proximity it hit exactly its mark. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.

 

“So you didn't explain to him,” I stated, very much a fact, looking at Sam accusingly as blood dripped down my arm.

 

“I—I honestly didn't think you guys would see each other this soon,” Sam explained, throwing his hands up in defense.

 

I gave him a slight glare, but I was mostly too relieved to be angry with him. “Dean should come to in a moment. I suggest you stand between us,” I stated dryly.

 

“ _Episkey,_ ” I said, my wand pointed toward the gash. I watched—and felt Sam's eyes on me—as the skin knit itself back together. We shared a brief look before the older Winchester brother began to stir.

 

“ _Reparifors._ ” I performed the spell on Dean, hoping it would fix any injuries I may have caused. Even if he'd basically tried to kill me, he was _still_ Sam's brother. “Now, I would suggest that you let me explain before trying to stab me again,” I said to the now conscious Dean.

 

The man glared at me relentlessly and spit out, “Go ahead, _witch_. Let's hear it.”

 

“Your brother is quite rude,” I said plainly to Sam, before launching into an explanation of where I came from—or more specifically, where my _powers_ came from.

 

“So...you didn't sell your soul?” Dean confirmed, looking more confused now than hateful.

 

“Have you been listening at all?” I asked, throwing my hands up in frustration. “No, I most certainly did not sell my soul. I was _born_ with my magic.”

 

“You believe her, Sammy?” He questioned, looking at his younger, taller brother.

 

Sam scooted closer and once again put an arm around me reassuringly. “Completely,” he affirmed.

 

Dean looked helpless for a moment and then shrugged. Taking that as a good sign, I clapped my hands together. “Now that we all love each other, why don't we take care of the--”

 

I stopped in my tracks, looking at the place where the body was. Er, the place where the body _had_ been.

 

“It's gone,” Sam stated, in dumb shock.

 

“Well that's great,” came Dean's comment after a moment of silence between the three of us. I sighed loudly and that about summed up the whole moment.

 

* * *

 

“You're sure about this?” Sam asked quietly as I walked out with toward the Impala.

 

Biting my lip, I said, “No, not entirely. But we haven't got any other options. It's not safe here, with that thing on the loose. And besides, that demon needs to get hunted down.”

 

“You could go back to--”

 

My eyes flashed. “Don't you dare say it, Sam. I'm coming with you guys.” He shrugged noncommittally as we reached the car, throwing our duffel bags—filled with the little we could salvage—in the backseat.

 

“Besides,” I continued. “Something needs to make Dean uneasy, right? Seems like it's my new job.”

 

Sam gave me a disapproving look and said, “He'll come around eventually. He'll see that you aren't bad.”

 

I chuckled a little, giving the tall man a mischievous look, and saying, “Oh, I didn't mean my magic. I meant how you have a hot girlfriend.” I waggled my eyebrows at him before turning and walking toward the car door.

 

“C'mon, get a move on, Sam,” Dean called from the driver's side as I got in. He then turned to me. “And you don't make me uneasy. You're not that hot.”

 

“Not even in my Smurfs shirt with my sexy accent?”I teased.

 

He just gave me a look— _that look,_ the one that said he was very obviously lying—and said, “No, you're not at all.”

 

“Yeah she is,” Sam said certainly, a cheeky smile on his face as he got in the passenger side next to his brother.

 

Dean groaned and Sam and I couldn't help but laugh.

 

“Just shut up, both of you,” he said as he floored the gas and turned the radio up, ACDC blasting, with the amused smile on his face betraying him. I saw the affectionate glance he threw Sam before I looked behind us, catching the last glimpse of our apartment and the last second of our life at Stanford.

 

 


	2. It Won't Be On a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys plus Hermione fight their first creature together and get some leads on the next job.

The creature's growls echoed throughout the mine, reverberating through the ground and our ears. Some dirt shook from the ceiling as the thing stomped toward our group.

 

A Wendigo, it was called—I had been informed of that much earlier by the older Winchester brother. After reviewing the notes their dad had left, we had an idea of how to kill it, but our primary goal was to not get killed _ourselves_.

 

“Alright, listen to me,” Dean announced, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead shining. “Stay with Sam. He's gonna get you out of here.”

 

The family—the Collinses—nodded, listening, but Sam looked stricken. “Hermione--” he began.

 

“Save it for later, Sam. I'm going with Dean.” I gave him my very best stern look—trying to emulate my old transfiguration instructor, Professor McGonagall. Someone had to look out for that idiot of a Winchester.

 

The woman, Haley, spoke up, “What are you gonna do?”  
  


I shrugged just as Dean winked and we turned in unison. The elder brother started yelling. “Chow time, you freaky bastard!”

 

“Yeah, that's right, bring it on!” I joined in as we continued to walk away from my boyfriend and the family we were trying to save.

 

“Baby, I taste _good!_ ” Dean added. I stifled my laughter as we kept on like that. “And Glinda here is so small, you could probably get her in one bite.”

 

“Hey!” I cried indignantly. “They'd probably rather have you and get a good meal out of it, you giant.” I sniffed, insulted, and then threw a grin at the man.

 

Dean just gave me a quizzical look, but continued yelling as we got further and further away from the others.

 

It was silent for a moment, getting deeper and deeper into the mine. It was seriously creepy, if I was to be honest. In a way, it reminded me of the far-underground vaults at Gringotts—although this time, I doubted we'd be leaving by way of dragon, if we got out at all.

 

I could tell Dean's thoughts were lingering on the same morbidity when I looked over and saw the dark look splashed across his features. I caught his eye, and he cleared his throat.

 

“Dean, I--”

 

“What did you just say to Sam?” Dean interrupted gruffly. “Save it for later, Hermione.” The use of my first name signaled that he knew what I was getting at.

 

“Well, later we may not be on the verge of being eaten,” I pointed out, a little too cheerfully.

 

Dean grit his teeth and gave me a look that said 'you want to do this now?'.

 

“Sorry,” I muttered.

 

He just shook his head, an amused smirk on his lips, before cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Hey, you want some white meat, bitch? I'm right here!”

 

“Language!” I exclaimed before adding, “C'mon! You know you want him! He sure is sweet!” I gave Dean my most saccharine smile. The tall man gave me an alarmed look in response.

 

“Look, sugar, I don't think that's quite what it's looking for,” Dean said after a moment. “Keep shouting, we gotta distract it. Give Sammy some time.”

 

I frowned momentarily before screaming, as loud as I possibly could, “Over here,  _asshole!_ Just eat us already!”

 

The man beside me wore an expression of shock, before giving me an appreciative look and a thumbs up of approval. With that, we continued on our way, still shouting.

 

* * *

 

 

“And the bear came back again after you yelled at it?” The officer confirmed.

 

The fight was over, and I was intensely relieved. Death had been a tad too close for comfort for my liking, and the Wendigo really was nearly as creepy as a Dementor—albeit it would just eat your whole body, not suck your soul. Still not sure which is worse.

 

“That's when it circled the campsite,” the younger Collins brother replied. “I mean, this grizzly must have weighted eight hundred pounds.”

 

“Probably nine hundred,” I quipped, though in truth I knew less about the American muggle way of weights than I'd care to admit. Sam just nodded beside me.

 

The officer looked a tad bit distraught, but just inclined his head and said, “Alright, we'll go after it first thing.” He nodded at us, and headed off in the direction of the ambulance that carried the older Collins brother.

 

After the officer walked away, the boy turned to us. A small ghost of a smile on his lips, he said, “Thanks. My brother would have been dead without you guys.”

 

Sam just clapped the boy on the shoulder and I smiled at him warmly before he walked off in the direction of his sister and the ambulance his brother was being hoisted up into.

 

Sam slung his arm around me, looking part cheerful, part brooding. Leaned my head lightly against his chest before asking, “What's wrong?”

 

“My dad. I just—I don't get it. Leaving us coordinates, but not telling us where he is? Why wouldn't he just--”

 

“Stop it, Sam,” I said, a commanding tone to my voice. I pulled my head of his chest and looked into those hazel eyes of his. “Your father must have a plan. Whatever it is, it's a goodthing _we_ were here to save these people, even if your father wasn't.”

 

The troubled look didn't leave his face entirely, but he ducked his head in a nod before smiling at me playfully and quoting, “'Over here, asshole'? 'Just eat us already'?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Really? We could hear it from the other side of the mine.”

 

“Your brother didn't much like my attempts at convincing it to eat him instead,” I stated, cracking a slightly crooked smile and laughing with him.

 

The three of them—Haley, Dean, and Ben—walked back over to us before we had stopped our guffawing.

 

“We're gonna go,” Haley stated quietly, giving us amused looks, before turning to kiss Dean on the cheek. “I hope you find your father,” she stated, smiling genuinely at the brothers.

 

The Collins siblings headed for the ambulance, but Haley turned back toward us, nodding. “Thanks Sam, Hermione.”

 

We just waved as they climbed into the vehicle and the paramedics closed the ambulance up. The three of us leaned onto the hood of the Impala as we watched the scene.

 

“Man, I hate camping,” Dean stated tiredly.

 

I snorted—delicately, of course—as Sam replied, “Me too.”

 

We looked on as the ambulance drove away, sirens blasting as it disappeared into the distance. There was a moment of silence as we all seemed to catch our breath.

 

“Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?” Dean asked, giving his brother a measly, sad smile.

 

“Yeah, I know,” my boyfriend replied quietly. Sandwiched between the brothers, I reached my arms out around both of them in a comforting gesture. Sam smiled at me, before adding, “In the meantime? I'm driving.”

 

Dean tossed Sam the keys, only looking a little disappointed, before grinning at his brother. “I'll ride in the back with your girlfriend. Keep her company.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at both of us and I snorted once more, covering my face in my hands.

 

Sam just gave him a warning look as Dean continued, “But seriously, you should've seen her back there. She was kick-ass.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes as he got in. “Yeah, I got that a while ago.”

 

True to his word, Dean climbed in beside me, adding, “She's the one who set that thing on fire...Sammy, does she set  _ you  _ on fire? You know, like in be--”

 

“Dean!” I exclaimed, smacking him on the back of the head. “Stop being a troll and start looking for our next job.”

 

“God,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his skull. “I should start calling you Elphaba.”

 

I glared at him, mock-balefully, and turned back toward my boyfriend. “So. Sammy,” I teased, “ _ Do  _ I set you on fire?”

 

Sam just calmly said, “Hermione, please don't start becoming his sidekick. You aren't supposed to be conspiring against  _ me _ .” The pink tint to his cheeks gave him away, however, and I nearly snorted some more.

 

* * *

 

 

The neon sign was flickering and frankly a little frightening, but the smells coming from the place were heavenly. The flier plastered to the door promised hot coffee, the world's best hamburgers, and fresh pie—all three of which were particularly enticing to Dean.

 

After a bit of pleading on his part, Sam and I acquiesced, following him reluctantly into the worn down establishment. “Samsam Diner”, the sign read, which caused a lot of laughter in our group.

 

A rather large woman in a too-small apron greeted us roughly at the door and sat us in the corner booth of the empty restaurant.

 

“So,” I began as I scanned the menu, look for—oh, there—tea. “Where is our next location? Any leads?”

 

Both brothers groaned simultaneously. “We just got out of that!” Dean exclaimed. “Give us...I don't know, at least long enough to eat some pie before you start with  _ that _ . You really picked an eager achiever, Sammy.”

 

Not able to deny that, I muttered, “Fine,” and quietly continued looking at the menu.

 

After we had ordered, Sam pushed back his chair and left to use the restroom, leaving Dean and I to stare at each other.

 

The silence was broken by the older Winchester brother after a moment. “So...What were you going to say in the mine?” Dean asked.

 

I raised my eyebrows and stated plainly, “The usual.”

 

“The usual?”

 

“Yeah, like...How you're not the worst person in the world and how I'd be sorry when you were dead. Your regular about-to-die stuff...” I shook my head and continued seriously, “No, honestly? I was going to say that Sam's lucky to have you around, and your dad too. You're a good person, Dean, no matter how much you might try to cover it--”

 

“Damn it,” Dean stated blankly, before smiling at me mischievously. “I was hoping you'd say you decided I was right and you actually  _ are  _ too good for my--”

 

I smacked him again and rolled my eyes at his cry of, “You didn't even know what I was going to say!”

 

Once we had quieted down, Dean said gruffly, “You’re not so bad yourself, Glinda.”

 

I smiled at him warmly and patted his shoulder. He rewarded me with a playful swat and a mock grimace, shaking his head. We took a second to smile at each other before we were pulled from our sentimentality.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” came Sam’s deep voice. A small smile played on his lips, and he had a shabby looking newspaper in his hand.

 

“No,” Dean said firmly, though the tug of grin betrayed him. “What is that?”

 

“Well, it’s _something_ ,” Sam said, plopping back down on his chair and dropping the paper onto the table in front of us.

 

“Entire Ohio family missing,” I read aloud from the headline in wide, black letters. “Worthington, Ohio? That’s just about…” I trailed off, still not entirely familiar with the American landscape.

 

“Twenty minutes from here,” Sam confirmed. “Get this—almost the entire family disappeared, with no trace. There was no indication of violence or kidnapping—just vanished.”

 

“They could have taken a vacation, or…How do we know this is _our_ kind of gig?” Dean questioned.

 

“That’s the thing. I said, _almost_ the entire family went missing. All but the young daughter,” Sam said, pointing to the paper.

 

“Well, Hermione, seems like you got your wish,” Dean told me, a tad bitterly.

 

Sam read the article out loud as we waited for our food. After the initial information, he got to the ten-year-old’s witness statement. “It says here that the little girl said that something ‘got’ them, and it looked like a shadow but she didn’t know what it was.”

 

A shadow? And whatever ‘got’ them left no trace? Could it be? “Sam, Dean, I think this may actually be more in my realm than yours.” And if that were the case, it could also be extremely dangerous.

 

“What do you mean?”

I bit my lip. “I think I have an idea of what it is, something I learned about in school—er, in my extra reading—but I’ll need more information…”

 

After our dinners came and went, Sam stood up. “We should get going. Get a hotel room closer to where it happened and head to the police station first thing.”

 

“But the pie—” Dean protested.

 

“Can wait,” I finished for him. “C’mon.” I heaved my purse over my shoulder and tucked the newspaper under my arm.

 

“Every single time,” Dean grumbled and I took the opportunity to smack him once more. Hunting with the Winchester brothers had its perks.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter done! Thank you for reading! :)


	4. The Big Bad Blanket, Oh My

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione talks to her old professor, breaks down a little, and the group learns a little more about what they're dealing with.

“So you mean to tell me...this is something you're familiar with?” Dean questioned, his eyebrows arched like the McDonald's sign we'd just passed. “Are you sure?”

 

“I don't _mean_ to tell you anything; I _am_ telling you. And I'm certain, yes.” I gave the older Winchester brother a slight glare and looked down my nose at him. “It's a lethifold.”

 

I was perched in the backseat of the Impala, facing the front of the car where the two brothers sat. With my legs crossed, I grinned at my boyfriend in the passenger seat. He just shook his head, crinkling the pages of the book I'd given him.

 

“Read some, Sam,” I implored, nodding my head toward the small print.

 

He squinted his eyes at me, and then, with a thin lipped smile, turned toward the leather-bound book and started. “Also called the 'Living Shroud', lethifolds are dangerous carnivorous creatures. They resemble a ripping black cape in appearance, roughly one half inch thick. These creatures attack their prey at night while they sleep, and are known for having a taste for human flesh...” Sam stopped and gave me a baffled look. “It says here that they live in tropical regions.”

 

“I don't know if you're aware of American climate, but Ohio's not exactly chock-full of rainforests or anything, Glinda,” Dean said cheekily, smirking at me in the rearview mirror.

 

There was honesty in the statement. True to my nature, I had already researched this slight inconsistency. That part of Ohio averaged sixty-five in temperature at this time of year. I wrinkled my nose, trying to think, but coming up blank. “There must be a reason for them to be here...”

 

“Hermione, I hate to say it, but...maybe you're wrong,” Sam's voice was soft, with an underlying tone of fear, probably of my reaction—which was, okay, justified.

 

I shot Sam my very best silencing look and continued considering all the options. My thoughts flitted about all the things I'd learned about magical creatures, the gears working. If I couldn't figure this out...who could?

 

“I'm going to need to make a...call,” I announced to no one in particular. “And we're going to need to go somewhere...private, to do it.”

 

“Can't you just place, like, an international call or something?” Dean asked, groaning. “It's not the best time to showcase your freaky witchery.”

 

I gave him a mockingly-disappointed look. “The rates are atrocious to call that far, Dean. Besides, I like my 'freaky witchery'.” I made air quotes around the words and stuck my tongue out at him in the mirror.

 

“So...what do you need to do, exactly?” The older Winchester brother looked a little scared of the answer.

 

“I just need to contact someone...He'll know more than I do about this.” I shrugged as Dean gasped.

 

“Someone who knows more about something than you do?” Dean's voice boomed through the small interior of the car, lilting as he continued. “Tsk tsk, Ms. Granger. Didn't you pay attention in class?”

 

I rolled my eyes at the man, and just said simply. “Can we pull over here?”

 

Dean looked around, confused. “...there's nothing around for miles.” I aimed a level look at him and realization struck him a moment later. “Ah. Freaky witchery.”

 

“You don't even know the half of it,” I replied. “Just pull over.”

 

Dean maneuvered the car over to the side of the road, and turned off the engine. He threw his hands up in surrender, and slumped down in his seat. “Alright, Hermione, I'll leave you to it.”

 

Sam, who had just been watching the exchange with an amused expression, said, “I'll come with you.”

 

I nodded silently, and smiled at him, unbuckling my seat belt and exiting the vehicle. Sam loped after me as I made my way toward the woods next to the country road.

 

“So who do you need to contact?” Sam asked quietly. “Harry? Or...” His features contorted into an expression of distaste. “Ron.” He made the name sound like an irreverent curse word.

 

I rolled my eyes at my boyfriend's tone, and simply said, “No, neither.”

 

Sam looked ready to say something, but decided against it, and instead just aimed an inquisitive look at me. I shrugged in response and beckoned him to follow me before I headed deeper into the trees.

 

Once I deemed us far enough away to avoid detection, I stopped and pulled my wand out. With a quick glance, I realized we had made it to a spot without many trees. I cast a quick conjuration spell and sat on the newly-made bench in the small clearing of the forest.

 

“So what now?”

 

I just smiled at him, and began rooting around in my “tiny” beaded bag. Anyone else's eyes would have been popping out of their skull when they saw my entire arm reached into the little pouch, but Sam was used to it. In fact, he kept some of his knives in it—I was glad that I'd thought to cover them before putting them in.

 

“Aha!” I exclaimed, a tad bit dramatically, as I finally felt the corner of what I had been searching for.

 

I gave a forceful tug, and it came tumbling out of the bag. It was a medium-sized painting, and the subject smiling gently from behind the screen. It was actually a wizard photo—which Sam had somehow never seen in our time together—charmed to stay frozen until I made it move.

 

“Just stay quiet, and wait for a second,” I instructed Sam, and turned my attention toward the painting. After I muttered an incantation, the person in the picture seemed to awaken and become aware—stroking his grey-white beard and peering at me.

 

“How can I help you, Ms. Granger?” Albus Dumbledore asked kindly, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

 

“What is that?” He nearly shouted, but tried to keep it down at last second. And then, realizing how ridiculous he sounded, added, “I know it shouldn't be that surprising.”

 

I shot him a disapproving look, and turned back to my former headmaster. “This is my...friend, Sam Winchester.” I gestured toward the younger Winchester brother, and continued, “We're having some trouble hunting a creature.”

 

“What do you seem to be having trouble with?” The ancient wizard asked, trying to hide a small smile at the mention of my 'friend'.

 

I explained the situation to him, as quickly as I could, and asked if he knew any reason the lethifolds would be anywhere near Ohio in autumn.

 

He continued patting his silver facial hair, and pondered my question for a moment. “Have you investigated the scene of the crime? There could be evidence of something larger happening there...”

 

“We haven't been to the house, no. There was a child left behind, headmaster, and we weren't sure what we should be looking for.”

 

The wise man just nodded, still thinking, and stated, “There is no natural reason that a lethifold would be in that country. My best guess is that something else is happening. Something...” He sighed a bit. “Something strange. I am sorry, Ms. Granger, that I cannot truly help you.”

 

I bit my lip, and just replied, “Thank you anyway, Professor Dumbledore.”

 

“Of course, Ms. Granger.” The wizard's features crinkled into a beaming smile, before darkening slightly. “Alas, I must warn you. Be careful. We do not yet know what evil remains in the wizarding world.”

 

I stared at him, slightly shocked, before ducking my head, and saying, “Of course, professor.”

 

“I don't mean to frighten you, but I fear the dark times we've all gone through are not entirely behind us.”

 

I offered a small smile at the old wizard, nodded, and hoarsely whispered the spell to re-freeze the picture. Shoving it back in my bag, I turned back toward Sam.

 

“Hermione--” he started.

 

I help up a hand. “Don't, Sam. It'll be fine.” I took a deep breath, to compose myself. “Now, it looks like we have some investigating to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It's just like we thought. The family disappeared without a trace. No sign of forced entry, nothing stolen, no blood. Just vanished, except for the daughter, who reportedly hid in the closet.” Sam sounded frustrated as he retold this information.

 

“Well...where is the daughter now?” Dean asked, his voice bleak. He turned toward me, his eyes set in boredom.

 

We were in front of the victims’ house—the West family—and Dean, who hadn’t gone in to talk to the police with Sam and I, had been waiting for nearly an hour. Based on the downward curve of his mouth, he was none too happy about it.

 

“Staying with her grandparents in London, about forty-five minutes from here,” I replied quickly. “She’s only been there for two days.”

 

“Maybe we should question her,” Sam stated, shrugging. “I don’t want to bother a little girl, but she might be able to give us more insight on this.”

 

I shook my head slightly, though not in disagreement. “We should talk to her…It just doesn’t make sense. Not just the weather issue, but _none_ of it makes sense. Lethifolds are intelligent _and_ lethal—the creature would have known the daughter was there, and it wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her.”

 

The three of us started the walk back to the Impala, mulling the case over as we went.

 

“It’s just…This isn’t our usual gig,” Dean said, clearly stating the obvious. “Usually, I’d have to do some research, go to a library, maybe look at local deaths or omens…look at _something._ But this is nothing I’ve ever seen before…”

 

I gave Dean a surprised look, his words giving me an idea. “We may not have access to a full library…But…Well…I certainly have a lot of books in my bag.”

 

Dean groaned at this, and I just rolled my eyes as the three of us climbed into the Impala.

 

An hour later, we were holed up in our motel room, poring over the dozens of books I’d pulled from my bag.

 

“‘ _Magick Moste Evile’_!” Dean exclaimed as he checked the title of the next book in his stack. “What kind of magic do you practice, exactly?”

 

I gave him a stern look, and turned back to my reading, saying, “It’s only for reference, in times like these. I’m not so foolish as to try and practice the dark arts.”

 

So far, none of the books we’d flipped through had rendered any results; _the Monster Book of Monsters_ had contained all of three lines about lethifolds, _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ hadn’t shown any magic that would affect beasts, and all of Gilderoy Lockhart’s books had provided merely laughs, a bit of embarrassment, and no concrete information.

 

“It just isn’t right!” I cried for probably the twentieth time that evening. “Lethifolds don’t naturally act this way! This just…this just _defies logic!_ ” I was well and truly appalled.

 

Sam looked on at my outburst, an expression of amusement playing on his face. “Hermione, calm down. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

 

“But what if it’s _not_ going to be okay, Sam?” Tears welled up in my eyes in spite of my desperate attempts to stop them. “You heard what Dumbledore said—I can’t go back to that! The war was just—” I cut myself off, noticing Dean’s interest piqued as he lifted his head from the large tome he was holding.

 

Sam slid his arm around me, rubbing my back in circles to comfort me. His voice was soft and slow when he spoke. “Hermione, it’s going to be okay. Whatever this is—even if something bad _is_ happening—the three of us, we’ll figure it out together.”

 

I just nodded weakly in response.

 

“C’mon, how about you get some sleep and we’ll keep looking?” Sam’s voice showed that my resting wasn’t actually a request, but a demand, and in that instant, I could do nothing but comply.

 

* * *

 

 

I awoke to voices, ringing through the small motel room despite the quiet tone the Winchester brothers were trying to keep.

 

“…I’m just saying. What if it’s not actually the lethifold doing it? That would explain why it isn’t acting the way it should act…”

 

“What are you suggesting, Sam? That someone’s controlling it?” Dean scoffed, and I could picture him folding his arms across his chest.

 

…But it wasn’t that crazy, was it? Theoretically, if someone was controlling a lethifold…it wouldn’t follow the creature’s natural patterns because it wouldn’t have a choice in what it was doing, instinct or not…

 

“That’s actually not a bad suggestion!” I cried, opening my eyes up wide and sitting straight up in my bed.

 

Both boys jumped at the unexpected noise, and turned to peer at me, shocked. “God, Glinda!” Dean exclaimed. “Some normal person tossing and turning before you wake up would be nice!”

 

I stuck my tongue out at him, and looked at Sam. “I’m serious. If someone could use…a charm, or something, to tether the creature to themselves…”

 

“Like a…binding spell?” Dean asked, disbelieving. “You think someone has the big bad blanket on a leash?”

 

I frowned at his blasé attitude toward the lethifold, but nodded. “Exactly. Only…I can’t think of any spell _I_ know of that could do that.”

 

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “But witches here, the made-a-deal kind, they can use binding spells. In fact, I’m sure they have before—Dad _must_ have something about it in his journal.”

 

Ten minutes later, Sam had found a passage, in his father’s writing, about the use of such enchantments in his experience. It seemed to be a nasty bit of magic, requiring some seriously dark rituals, but it seemed viable.

 

“I don’t mean to ask the obvious question here but…how do we figure out who’s doing it?” Dean looked distraught. “And why did they do it to begin with?”

 

I shook my head, not knowing the answer, and looked to Sam.

 

“Well…How would a witch like we know find a lethifold?” He turned to Dean. “According to Hermione, they should only be known to her wizarding community.” Sam rubbed his forehead in confusion.

 

I didn’t want it to be true, but I knew there was a distinct possibility. “It must be someone from my world, then.”

 

“Could they be working with the witches here?” Dean asked doubtfully.

 

I shrugged. It was possible—and also frightening. It was one thing dealing with amateur witches, who knew nothing about real magic or how to wield it. But if…evil wizards—maybe even Death Eaters—were spreading their sorcery around the States?

 

My slight headache had suddenly took a turn for the worse, and I leaned over, my head in my hands, not wanting to think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural story (since I just started watching it recently!), and I couldn't resist the pairing. Both a prequel and full-blown story of afterward are possible! Comment please, to at least let me know if it's horrible, or good. Who knows.


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